


Aftermath

by dont_look_at_me_please



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Pretty vague, Romance, We Stan Happy Endings in this House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28517223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_look_at_me_please/pseuds/dont_look_at_me_please
Summary: She wakes up and her head is profoundly empty.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Comments: 21
Kudos: 251





	1. Chapter 1

In the early haze of consciousness, she has two different arms. The right is nice and 'ganic, she can feel the sheets on her skin, watch the goosebumps and hairs rise in a cascade. The left is made of metal, she flexes her hand and the joints of her fingers whir against one another. She can't feel it, nor the sheets it touches, but it's there and it's hers.

And then she wakes up.

The room is dark but the artificial lights of Night City shine so brightly even behind the blinds. V blinks it in, sees two normal, fleshy arms outstretched in front of her. Looks at her clock. _11:23 AM._ There's a distinct lack of a headache that she had come accustomed to, the kind that pulsated to the rhythm of someone repeatedly knocking on a door, desperate to get out. She should feel grateful for it. But she doesn't. 

She feels empty.

"Johnny..." she groans into nothingness. No response. She sits up, her voice a little louder, little sharper. "Johnny?"

She reaches into the deepest recesses of her mind, knowing that even when he wasn't talking, she could still hear him. Feel him. Nothing. She tugs on her hair sharply, as if hoping to pull him from her. Nothing.

Then she remembers. Mikoshi. Alt. Johnny.

_"Promise you won't forget me," he said._

She remembers reaching out towards him, the light growing narrower and narrower and then―

Then there's pain. It radiates from the base of her skull, as if her brain was willing her to not remember. As if protecting her from the memory. Shit.

Cool metal slides along the back of her neck, silver glints in her vision. V chuckles grimly, fisting the dog tags in her hands. _As if I could try to forget you._ There's hot tears prickling her eyes, eyes that no longer see for two. She realizes she's wearing his shirt, practically swimming in it, the faint scent of tobacco and gunpowder stronger than she remembered. She's drowning.

Was it her imagination? Did she really miss him that much? She sees his jacket lying on the couch within reach. V blindly reaches for it, loses her purchase with the edge of the bed, and unceremoniously topples in a pathetic heap. Huh, guess she did.

She should've said something earlier. But was it even necessary? They shared a subconscious, every unwitting thought from one was an unwitting thought of the other. He had to have known. But that makes it worst, right? 

Doesn't matter. He's gone, probably a string of numbers by now. Hopefully, wherever he is, he's in a better place.

The door opens.

"You wouldn't believe the wait at fucking Tom's. Swear if their burgers weren't half as good as they are I would've― Uh, Val, why you on the floor?"

V looks up, sees Johnny fucking Silverhand in her doorway holding a to-go bag. 

She scrambles up, tripping on her own feet. Johnny barely has time to close the door behind him and put the bag down before V unceremoniously tackles him, her weight bringing both to the floor. She vaguely hears the sickening thud of his skull meeting the door, a groan of pain reverberating against his chest. She feels him slide against the door, back flush against it and her perched on his very solid feeling lap.

He feels warm. His body is absent of the blue glow, no static that interrupts his visage. She touches his face, rolls the flesh of his cheek in her hand. The stubble along his jaw scratches against her palm.

"Having fun there?" Johnny deadpans. He traps her wrists in his hands, holding them up to prevent further assault to his face. 

"Johnny..."

"V."

"Y-You're alive?"

He snorts. "Yeah." Places her hand on his chest. She feels the relentless beating of a heart on her palm, the back of her hand encased by the cool metal of his. "'Tis I, the total fucking package."

"I don't understand."

"That makes two of us. Memory still gonked?"

"But why were you..."

"Haven't had food in 50 years, body seems eager to catch up. Thought I told you I was going but you were knocked out." Johnny rolls his eyes. "Don't worry, pipsqueak. Got you your usual."

V can't meet his eyes, busies herself with fiddling with the ends of the shirt he was wearing. "You know that's not what I meant."

Johnny sighs. "Honest to godliness, no idea. Maybe some cruel creator truly wants to see the world burn, seems intent on keeping us together." At this point, Johnny's relatively lighthearted demeanor melts into something else, wipes the tears that were still rolling. He wraps his arms around her torso, squeezes her towards him, peppers kisses into her hairline. She feels herself buried in his neck, the scent of tobacco and gunpowder even stronger than before. "Bad dream again, huh?"

She nods.

"S'fine. Get them too." She feels his arms tighten, as if he was scared she too would become a cloud of code if he didn't hold on tight enough. "Had a feeling. Got here as soon as possible. May have caused a car accident. Guess our minds are still connected that way."

V pulls away. Her eyes meet his, giggles when she realizes that he still wears sunglasses at night. "What do I need to know?"

Johnny removes his glasses, brings her close enough that their foreheads touch. "All you need to know is that we're stuck with each other."

Her grin widens. "Really?"

His grin is a mirror image of hers. "Forever and fucking ever, baby."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, his head is incredibly full.

There is no way to getting used to this.

Since becoming whole again everything feels, for lack of better words, _more_ to Johnny. The lights of Night City are still too bright for his outdated optics to keep up, forcing him keep his sunglasses on most of the time to avoid straining them. The counter he thrums his fingers against seems to be singing at him and he hears the beginning of a new song become born. 

Johnny checks his phone, squints at the digital numbers through the dark lenses. _11_ _:17 PM_. Fuck, he knows he told V just before he left he was gonna go on a quick grub hunt, but it still makes him antsy to leave her alone too long, even if Nibbles was keeping guard. Whether it was out of genuine concern for her safety or his increasingly unhealthy dependence on her presence is completely beyond him.

Then he feels it, a headache coming on, as if someone was pulling his hair clear from its roots. It's usually a sign, a premonition for something about to go wrong. _Fuck, V._

The song in Johnny's head is temporarily aborted as he slams a closed fist against the diner counter. "Hey Tom, don't give a fuck if that burger's still standing on four legs, I need it now."

Tom grumbles something under his breath, something about spoiled rocker wannabees, but seems to follow his orders all the same. Johnny's a good tipper after all and can appreciate the efforts of a man doing honest work. He rings the bell and the waitress clicks her tongue at Johnny's insistence disapprovingly, handing the bag to him. Johnny leaves without another word, summoning the car to to V's immediately.

It's a miracle he and the car make it one piece. Maybe V's driving skills have been rubbing off on him after all. It takes him little time to get to ~~her?~~ _their_ apartment (it's hard to have defined boundaries with the person you've shared headspace with), step into the door and see V, the blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon, sprawled on the floor.

He barely has time to say something halfway snarky, between making sure the door is closed behind him and the food safely out of the way, when she tramples him. The air is knocked out of his operating lungs and he feels the smacking of his head and back against the door in full force. _Fuck, sometimes I hate being solid_ , he thinks, surrendering himself to gravity and bringing them both to the floor.

He feels her shaking against him like a leaf, looking so much smaller than she is all swallowed up in his clothes. He has something sarcastic to say when she starts grabbing at his face, eyes wild in searching for recognition, like she couldn't believe what was happening before her. He traps her wrists above her head, willing her to still in his grip.

_Shit. Memory lost again. Third time this month._

"Johnny..." she says, the line bordering on tearful, actual tears chasing her words as if on cue.

"V." 

They do the whole dance again. He places her hand on his beating heart, his chrome hand encasing her 'ganic one. He answers whatever questions she has for this time. Sees some light come back to her eyes that refuse to look to him directly.

Then the need to hold her takes over and he acts. He wipes the tears that fall to wash away the pain. He holds her close, the need to become synchronous almost instinct by now. He kisses her hair as if willing memories to come back. He asks her if she had a bad dream again, knowing she'll say yes. He holds her even closer. She responds by burying herself deeper into him. It almost makes him laugh at how in sync they are.

When V pulls her away, she's giggling at him and he realizes it must've been because he's still wearing his sunglasses in their dark apartment. By far the furthest thing to be laughing about this night.

She smiles at him, finally able to meet his eyes in earnest. "What do I need to know?"

Ah, fuck. Where to start?

_That you stormed into Arasaka again after finding out my body was cryogenically frozen with your nomad friends. That when I first woke up, you kissed me still half frozen and in my birthday suit. That we've squandered our lives as legends to live in mundane mutual domesticity with our feral street cat. That you've taken to calling me Robert whenever you're pissed._

_That we're still looking for a cure._

_That you were half right about happy endings._

_That I am never letting you go._

Hm, maybe not now. Not when his girl is like this and all he wants to do is show her how much he loves her. Another story for another day.

He takes off his glasses and holds her close. His right hand comes around the back of her neck, feeling the cold metal of his dog tags meet his skin, bringing their foreheads together. The other hand cages her into him. She keeps a hand close to his heart, the one that’s been hers since the beginning and will be until the end. He says some cheesy line about being together forever, brings her even closer. It seems physically impossible at this point, but they’ve been through the impossible and back.

He kisses her like nothing else in the world matters except them.

‘Cause well, fuck. It’s true, isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Decided to write this in Johnny's perspective because I am still in Cyberpunk 2077 Hell. Please pray for me. Thank you for reading again!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Here's my attempt at a happy ending where V and Johnny are miraculously alive and happy and together. Thank you for reading!


End file.
